


Mea Culpa

by MythicallySnappy



Category: Rhett & Link
Genre: F/M, Infidelity, M/M, Mild Angst, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-09
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-09-16 12:07:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9270020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythicallySnappy/pseuds/MythicallySnappy
Summary: Rhett’s been holding something back for fifteen years.  She deserves to know.  She deserved to know a long time ago.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Probably my last entry for the [Rhink Holiday Ficathon 2k16](https://rhinkficathons.tumblr.com)!
> 
> I used the song prompt [Ready, Able by Grizzly Bear](https://youtu.be/Puph1hejMQE) for this fic. Please go ahead and give it a listen if you aren't familiar already, it's very wintery and haunting.
> 
> This one needed a good bit of tweaking so a million thanks to my beetas, co-mods and besties, [Amanda](http://archiveofourown.org/users/amanderjean/pseuds/amanderjean) & [Lauren](http://archiveofourown.org/users/pringlesaremydivision/pseuds/pringlesaremydivision). Ya'll are so, so great. ♥
> 
>   
>   
> [[img](http://www.gettyimages.co.uk/detail/photo/two-sets-of-footprints-in-the-snow-royalty-free-image/109256330)]

     It’s been a long time. It’s almost been fifteen years, but he’s got to tell her, he’s _got_ to. It’s been eating away at him and he’s got to check it off his list. He’s _got_ to.

     “Hey, babe,” Rhett says, his voice low and sober. “I need to tell you something.” She’s beautiful, she’s _so_ beautiful, and she has no idea what he’s about to say. She settles down next to him on the loveseat, curling up under the heavy comfort of his arm. She hums in question but the tiny trill of vibration that he feels through her is abrasive like a blizzard. “I want you to know… what I did.”

     Jessie cocks her head to look up at him. Her eyes are the warmest summer walnut and he can see the questions scorching like a Los Angeles heatwave through her head. She stiffens a little beneath him but she’s quiet. She’s silent and patient and she waits, leaving Rhett to fill the silence between them. He takes a deep breath. It’s been a long time. But she deserves to know.

     “It was fifteen years ago, baby. And I know I should have said something before, I should have. But we just got that mortgage and I was scared what you’d do or— or how you’d react. But I’m telling you now, ‘cause you’ve gotta know.” The words come tumbling out of him like a snowslide. “In the winter after we got married… I slept with Link.”

     Her eyes go wide and he can see the brushfire ignite inside them. Her brows furrow together and she pulls away from him, just a little.  
     “Slept… with Link? Like… sex?” she asks, hesitantly. He clears his throat.  
     “Yeah. Like sex.”

     It’s been fifteen years, and he loves her, he does, and she deserves to know. She deserved to know a long time ago.

     “Why?” she whispers.  
     “It was before Locke was born. And Link— Link, he had Lincoln on the way and I was just _scared,_ baby. I was scared to be a dad and Link wasn’t ready for another one either and it just sort of happened.”  
     “I was _pregnant?_ ”  
     “I’m sorry, baby.”

     He doesn’t tell her that he and Link had the hiking trip planned for weeks before it happened. They’d rented a cabin on a trail near Fuquay, and even though they’d had the heaviest winter storm in years, the snow had settled on the barren tree branches so delicately, that it made the entire forest look like it was straight out of a Bob Ross painting.

     He doesn’t tell her that he took the first plunge, pressing Link against the wall of their cabin as soon as they breached the entrance. That he had made that decision with a kiss, hoping against hope that Link would lean back into him. And he did. The shame bit at Rhett then as much as it does now— little sharp nips like frostbite. Like Link’s teeth at his throat.

     He doesn’t tell her that he’d ripped Link’s coat and shirt off before he could even kick off his own boots, and he doesn’t tell her that his waist felt as tiny as hers encompassed in his big hands. That Link had pulled him into the bed savagely and wordlessly, straddling his boxer-clad hips with the ferocity of an avalanche. That he’d growled into Link’s ear the sort of things that he hadn’t said to anyone but her. That Link’s lips around his cock were as soft and wet as hers were and that he couldn’t tear his eyes away from Link’s— watering when he pressed his hips forward too hard, too urgent.

     He doesn’t tell her that he’d fallen apart under Link’s hands, touching him in places that she’d never ventured, insatiable and persistent. That Link hunched over him with his hand thrusting between his legs and his mouth leaving trails along his neck was more electric than anything he’d ever felt up until that moment. That he cried, a little, when Link first entered him, slow and careful, whispering soft encouragement into his ear as he eased himself in. Those tears didn’t last long, though, and soon enough he’d wrapped his long arms around him to pull him further inside, over and over, and harder and harder.

     “How many times?” she asks. She’s chewing on her lip and there’s moisture in the corners of her eyes but she’s got a fiery resolve about her— he knows she won’t let the tears fall.

     How many times? Now _that,_ that he’s not sure about. They’d woken in the middle of the night, snow pellets pinging off the thin glass windows, and Rhett’s lips had inched down Link’s flat stomach, their fingers interwoven. He made Link groan louder than he’d ever heard him with just his mouth that night, louder even than Jessie’s high-pitched squeals and cries. He’d hooked Link’s heels up and over his shoulders and pulled him to the edge of the bed and watched the way his eyes had pressed closed when he aligned himself with Link’s tight rim and pushed— as unhurried and gentle as he could manage. But Link was as impatient that night as he is now, and it wasn’t long before they’d both worked up a hearty sweat, hips thrusting to meet each other with just the sound of their heavy breathing and wind whistling over the roof to mask the slick sound of their bodies colliding.

     And in the morning, right after the crack of dawn, after Rhett made coffee. He licked the taste clean off Link’s tongue and whispered a million _I love yous_ in his ear. They’d flipped each other over a thousand times in the feeble light of daybreak, sinking in between one another’s thighs and tasting parts of each other that were sweeter than chocolate and saltier than the sea.

     And when they packed up and headed back down the mountain, they’d veered off the path and into the forest. He’d pushed Link up against a tree, the small of Link’s back scraping against the bark and his legs wrapped firmly around his waist. At that point Rhett’s lips were so raw that he could barely stand to rub them against Link’s stubbled chin— but he did anyway. The soft blanket of snow around them muffled Link’s wails as Rhett pounded into him, hands gripped tight beneath his thighs.

     But he doesn’t tell her that. He’s certain that she doesn’t want the details. It was all a tryst— tissue and bones.

     “Just the once.”

     When Rhett pulled up around the corner from Link’s house before he dropped him off, they’d kissed one last time, hot enough to melt a glacier. Link’s hands twisted in the front of Rhett’s jacket and Rhett’s hands pulled at the soft bristles of hair at the base of Link's neck. They only stopped when the windows had started to fog up, and then spent the next few minutes smoothing out their hair and re-buttoning their buttons— making sure all their tracks in the snow were gone. He didn’t tell her about that then, and he doesn’t tell her that now.

     She sniffs, staring at her hands fidgeting in her lap. He knows he should feel guilty, but he doesn’t regret it. But he feels bad that he _doesn’t feel bad,_ which is it’s own fucked up brand of guilt. He feels bad that she feels bad, but he can’t rewrite the past. And he doesn't want to.  
      “Okay,” she says.  
      “Okay?”

     She looks up at him then, a soft, warm, little hand coming to rest inside his. He loves her.

     “Yeah. It’s okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr [@ratchetrhink](http://ratchetrhink.tumblr.com) if you're so inclined.
> 
> And as always, your likes, kudos, comments & reblogs are the coals that stoke my fire. I appreciate them all so much, thank you!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Nothing Wrong](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11271075) by [loudspeakr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/loudspeakr/pseuds/loudspeakr)




End file.
